


bella notte

by romanono



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Comfort, Dinner, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Lady and the Tramp (1955) References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 09:51:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18363608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanono/pseuds/romanono
Summary: Romano has been stressed by work, he's not been sleeping, and he's been constantly grumpy. Spain just wants him to relax. What better way than some cheesy candlelit dinner together?request thats been sitting in my inbox for some lady and the tramp cheesy shiti'm not feeling good. and so what do i do? project that feeling onto romano and let him be comforted for me.this isn't proofread like at all cause i be tired.





	bella notte

The last week or so, Lorenzo had constantly felt like his stress was crushing him, suffocating him. Antonio was quick to notice it. Lorenzo might’ve already been a rather grumpy person, but when he was stressed out of his mind, he was beyond irritable, and constantly tired, yet his sleep issues grew worse. He’d barely been sleeping, and that only worsened how much anxiety was consuming him.

The work on his desk from his boss was piling. As much as he didn’t want to be holed up all day, he was. He’d rather toss it all in the trash and crawl into bed with Antonio, but he couldn’t. If he was punished for such shit, he’d only grow more irritated and stressed. Lorenzo was by far very fucking lazy, but when something was on the line, he worked hard and wouldn’t stop until he either finished, or drove himself in a hole. It was impossible to get him to stop worrying and working.

But, despite all that, Antonio had managed to coax him into putting the work down for the night, and having a nice dinner with him. He’d cook, so Lorenzo could relax before they ate. Often, they would cook and eat together in the kitchen cozily, or even in bed, rarely sitting down at the fancy dining table all proper, unless there was an occasion to it. This was an instance that suited that, Antonio thought.

Lorenzo did usually do most of the cooking, since Antonio was more distracting than he was productive, rather wanting to kiss and play with his husband, instead of letting him actually focus on their meal he was cooking. But that didn’t mean Antonio couldn’t cook. He’d prepared several courses, like they usually would eat for lunch, but well, dinner would sometimes have to substitute that, clearly. A big dinner was what they needed.

Antonio herded his lover over to the dining table, which had some fancily lit candles and a rather elegant and romantic set-up, kissing his cheek before he left to the kitchen, only to return a moment later with two plates of salad and some bread on the side. It was almost like there were at a restaurant, one meant only for themselves. Antonio was even wearing his stupid little apron with a cheesy, ‘I love you from my head to-ma-toes’ written on it with two cartoon-y tomatoes embracing.

“You’re a dork,” Lorenzo sighed, but a fond smile was on his lips, belying his words. Any insult he would utter would be nothing but loving, Antonio had known that for years.

“But I’m your dork,” he cooed, placing the bowl in front of Lorenzo before seating himself, right across the little table. Mere seconds were counted before Antonio’s mischief was already taking place, his foot sneaking over and nudging at Lorenzo’s leg.

“You are, I know,” he assured him, with a little roll of his eyes, getting a forkful and shoving it in his mouth. While he did that, Antonio seemed to reach over for something, and that was when Lorenzo noticed the little radio he’d propped on the table, which started to softly play lovey music.

“You continue to beat out your own fucking dorkiness. It’s amazing, really,” he scoffed, meant to be a laugh, and return the little foot touch beneath the table.

“I know, right?!” Antonio laughed, a grin present on his lips. He was only too happy to his lover easing up and smiling, it hadn’t been so common lately.

When their first course was done, Antonio brought out some pasta. Normally, they’d eat three courses, but Antonio didn’t want to take up too much time cooking. He just wanted to spend time with his lover. So this was the final one.

A heaping plate of spaghetti was placed in front of Lorenzo, and he raised a brow, It was very rare that Lorenzo would let Antonio cooking his cuisine without his supervision. He loved him, really, but that man was not to be trusted with some things.

“Don’t worry, amor. I followed your recipe to a ‘T’, I swear it. And if anything’s wrong with it, well, I guess you’ll just have to kiss me as punishment!”

“That’s some stupid logic,” he said, but a little snort escaped him. But then he noticed - there was only one plate. “You were really that lazy?” he asked, almost mockingly.

“Nope! We’re sharing,” he said, instead sitting down in the chair right next to him, scooting it so close that they might as well be one chair, at that point, and smiled at him so stupidly. A soft Italian ballad poured from the radio, and the room was dimly lit by their candles. “I think I’ve seen this in a movie once, don’t you think~?”

Lorenzo only rolled his eyes. “Don’t think I’m letting you get the bigger half.”

A pout surfaced on Antonio’s lips. “Ay, so cruel. I cooked you such a nice dinner, and you’re still being so greedy. My poor heart,” he sighed dramatically, only for a smile to resurface once Lorenzo nudged him out of annoyance.

“Shut up. Did you even bring a second fork?”

“Nope again. Maybe I just want to feed you, caramelito,” he cooed, snatching the fork before Lorenzo might be able to protest and do so, twirling some of the pasta onto it and holding it up to his lips.

“You’re the worst,” the Italian whined, not meaning a word of it, and he parted his lips, letting himself be fed. Antonio was never shy about pampering his lover, and he never would be. It meant the world to him to let Lorenzo relax while he showered him in the love he knew he deserved.

Though, as their plate was growing empty, Antonio took the fork, picking up a single, rather long noodle - did he really leave one fucking noodle in that wasn’t broken in half? - and held the tip to his lips, holding the other up to Lorenzo. The look on his face showed he wasn’t about to let him get out of this very stupid, very cheesy thing.

So he sighed, rolling his eyes again. “Fine,” he spoke, sounding almost exasperated, but a little smile twitched at the corners of his lips. And he leaned in, taking the pasta into his mouth, making Antonio look delighted. And slowly, the Spaniard started to slurp the noodle, not the most graceful or romantic sounds to leave him, but Lorenzo followed, leaning on the table and looking his idiot in the eye as they inched closer to one another. Slowly, until a mere few inches were between their faces. 

For a moment, Lorenzo considered biting down and breaking the noodle, but he was sure Antonio was going to whine if he did that, so he kept playing along, right up until their lips met, and he was stolen in a stupid, sweet kiss. The pasta between them didn’t even matter, and Lorenzo shut his eyes, letting it linger for a long moment, before he withdrew, biting down and taking the spaghetti with him, a smirk on his lips.

“Mine.”

Antonio pouted at him childishly. “You’re so mean, Lorencito. Really, how does my heart last?” he gave another dramatic sigh, the back of his hand touching to his forehead, like he were lamenting a tragedy. 

A little laugh was Lorenzo’s only response before he dove back in, kissing his stupid husband again, to which that stupid husband only smiled and returned it.

When they were finally finished with dinner, Antonio wanted to ask him to dance, but, their bellies were full. Sleep would be better suited, especially with how little Lorenzo had been getting. They settled in bed, Lorenzo nuzzled up to Antonio’s shoulder, the Spaniards arm around him, a hand buried in his hair, petting it gently and letting him relax.

“We should dance tomorrow,” he murmured, lips pressed to his forehead. “You’re always so relaxed and happy when we dance. Maybe I can even give you a nice massage.” He didn’t dare bring up his work, having succeeded in taking Lorenzo’s mind off it. It’d be better to let him forget about it, for now.

“...Maybe, fine. Only because I love being pampered by you so much.”

Antonio smiled, his other arm winding around his waist, fingers rubbing into his back soothingly and holding his lover close. He hummed, lulling the other to sleep, making sure that he did fall asleep, before he let himself.


End file.
